


The Unexpected Road to Love

by Barefootandbookish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rumbelle - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anna and Belle friendship, Annabelle - Freeform, Belle French - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Road Trip, Romance, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumplestiltskin - Freeform, single mom, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barefootandbookish/pseuds/Barefootandbookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is the cold, real estate king who everyone refers to as the town monster. Belle is a single mom, struggling to find her happiness in the world. They have known of each other for years, even crushed on each other, but never spoke a word to one another. Then on Valentine's Day everything changes. A brief conversation turns into a full night of questions, books, food, and even a road trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one starts with Belle preparing her Holiday traditions, she's interrupted when Alistair waltzes into the shop.
> 
> Also, chapter one has been edited slightly since my original posting.

The morning started out as normal as any other. If Belle hadn’t of checked her calendar three times that morning she wouldn’t even believe it was a holiday. At a half past ten she gave up on any customers coming in.

After flipping the shop sign to closed, Belle waded through a sea of roses and heart balloons wearing a frown on her face. She wasn't surprised there had been no customers. Valentine's Day was never a hit in Storybrooke, but still the disappointment clouded her mood.

And on top of that it was the first year she’d have to do her Valentine’s delivery tradition alone. Her daughter, Quinn, had always loved to tag along, but this year she was with her father, two hours away.

Grayson had begged Belle to let him have a weekend to himself for months. She’d finally given in, but it didn’t mean she was comfortable with it. Grayson always had a way with making a mountain out of a mole hill. But she didn’t have time to think about any of that. Now, it was time for the real fun of the day to begin.

Five years ago, Belle had started a tradition. She delivered flowers to Storybrook’s least loved members every Valentine’s Day evening.  It was one of her favorite times of the year, and she just had to suck it up. Nothing was going to stop her from putting a smile on the shut in’s faces.

Belle scurried around the flower shop, hand picking the flowers for the bouquets. Letting the bright and cherry colors lighten her heart. Each one had to be perfect. As far as Belle knew, it was the only time the shut in’s received any gifts.

By the time she’d finished, she’d added in two more bouquets. One for Anna’s party, and another just in case she found someone not on her list that seemed to need a little cheering up. She sat back on her knees and admired the beauty of the flowers. How could anyone not love a day so beautiful and filled with love?

After loading the flowers into her car, she ran upstairs to her apartment above the shop. She’d almost forgotten the cards Quinn had made for everyone. Her little way of still helping.  As she turned into her bedroom she caught her own reflection in the mirror.

Her chestnut hair frizzed around her forehead, her makeup half sweated off. And to top it off, she’d managed to rip a tiny hole in the front of her favorite black sweater. The deliveries would just have to wait another half hour. She wasn’t leaving without a shower. 

Thirty minutes later she stood in front of the mirror looking like she stepped right out of an ad for some over-priced  Hollywood clothing line. A long sleeves, red lace dress hugged her body in all the right places. It hit just above the knee, and a pair of nude stockings underneath, for extra warmth. Her hair was pulled back with a combination of bobby pins and hair ties. But a few pieces had already fallen loose, framing her face with soft curls. She grabbed a pair of black heels, the finishing touch for her Valentine’s Day outfit, and headed out the door.

Or she would have, had her keys been where she left them. The small glass bowl right by the door was empty. She paced around the room, looking for her keys. “What the hell did I do with them now?” she shouted at her black and white cat, Chip, who was lying uselessly on the sofa. She shooed him away and flipped over the cushions. No keys.

Just as she was about to dump her purse out on the floor, she heard the familiar jingle of the shop bell coming from downstairs, reminding her she’d forgotten to lock the door.  Maybe the keys are down there.

She ran down the steps and into the back of the shop, “I’m coming,” she yelled.

When the door swung open into the room she noticed the full suit first, all black with a barely noticeable pin stripe.  Underneath, a deep burgundy tie peaked out. Her heart skipped a beat. She had to steady herself before taking another step. Pretending to fix her shoes, she leaned over and took a deep breath. She’d expected David or Ruby, someone who comes in all the time, not Mr. Gold.

Belle was normally a confident woman, but seeing him standing there, propped against the front counter with a face of stone, made her want to run back through the door. A shiver wound its way up her spine. Mr. Gold had always been somewhat of a myth in Storybrooke. He was the monster at the end of town, owning almost all the properties in town, including the flower shop. 

She’d never said a word to him, but she had studied him from afar. He always wore his suits and held on tightly to his cane. He was the richest man in Storybrooke, and he made it painful obvious. If he had a friend, he didn’t let anyone know it. Most people feared him, he was known for showing absolutely no mercy, but Belle found him fascinating. 

If she was being honest with herself, she’d had a crush on him for as long as she could remember. Belle seemed to have a thing for the bad guy trope. All the mystery and brooding got to her. She’d always wished she were brave enough to figure out what made him tick. Go on, she thought, quit staring and say something. 

  

* * *

                                                                                                                                                                   

Mr. Gold folded a square piece of paper, a list of people late on rent, and tucked it into his pants pocket. He stood up straight, facing the young lady who’d just burst through the door. His hand knotted into a fist at his side. He hadn’t anticipated this. Instantly, he regretted not calling first.

What is she doing here?  He wondered as he took in the room, drenched in red and pinks. The smell of so many flowers was nauseating. Maurice always took the weekends. His health must be getting worse if Belle was here alone. He gripped his wooden cane so tightly that he could feel the little gold tip cutting into his palm.

The florist’s daughter stood frozen several feet away from, her mouth slightly ajar. But she didn’t look frightened like most people were when he showed up, just surprised. He had to turn his gaze to the flowers around him to keep his eyes from wondering over the perfect fitting dress she had on. He couldn’t help but notice the way it showed off every one of her assets.

It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Belle. Ever since she came back from wherever her young twenties had taken her, he had noticed her. Walking down the street with those giant uncomfortable heels, her face always in a book. Or when she clucked at Granny for not taking good enough care of her garden.  But he kept the thoughts tucked deep in the back of his mind, never once thinking it more than a little crush. She was half his age, and deserved much more than a money hungry recluse.

He continued to resist the urge to look towards her, only taking peeks of her from behind his chin length, graying hair. The bounce in her step as she walked right up to him, not even a little afraid, was mesmerizing. Something about her stood out from every other person in Storybrooke. He wondered if it was the years she’d spent away from town, or if she were actually some supernatural creature. After all, he’d never seen a woman as beautiful as her. 

“Hello, Mr. Gold. How can I help you?” Belle asked. 

 He allowed himself one look at her before focusing on his black loafers, “I expected Mr. French to be here today.” 

 “He’s not feeling well. Actually, the shop is closed. I was just about to head out.” 

He met her eyes again, forcing a smile that came out more like a grimace. “Oh, well I’ll be on my way then. I will be back with your father is in.” He was happy to have an excuse to leave quickly.  The last thing he wanted to do was to worry Belle with her father’s financials. 

She reached a hand out, almost touching his arm, then pulled it back again. “I’m not a fool. If there is a problem, Mr. Gold, you can take it up with me.” Her words were pointed, matching her narrowed eyes. Something he’d said had upset her. 

 “You can call me Alistair,” he said, “It’s no matter, I will be on my way now.”      

Alistair chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. He hadn’t told anyone his name is ages. He preferred the formal use of his last name. Having people calling him Alistair, seemed too personal, like handing over too much power. But Belle had gotten him flustered in that damn red dress and the way her dark hair brought out the innocence in her soft blue eyes. Before he knew the name was out of his mouth. 

He turned to go, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. There was no telling what kind of information he may give up if he had to look at her face for another moment. But Belle wasn’t ready to give up. She knew him well enough it seemed. She knew he wouldn’t be there unless there was a problem. 

“Alistair,” she said, stepping in front of him, just enough to block the path to the door. He narrowed his eyes at her. Hearing his name brought on a wave of emotions. He closed his eyes, trying to capture the way his name sounded on her lips. When he opened them his amber colored eyes were narrowed at her, frustrated that she just wouldn’t let him go.  Couldn’t she see that he was trying to spare her feelings? 

“Mr. Gold, “ she corrected. “Please at least let me take a message.”  She knew something wasn’t right, that much was obvious in the way she held out the word please.  He hated that the first conversation between them was made up of lies. Because that’s exactly what withholding information is, just a lie. 

But he was a coward, he didn’t want to tell her the truth. That her father had missed payments for three months in a row. He was afraid she may burst into tears, and he was sure he would not be able to handle that. Instead he stretched himself a little taller and pointed a long finger towards the door. 

“No thank you, dearie.” He tipped his head and slipped out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle makes a brave move and finds herself on Alistair's doorstep after finishing her deliveries. Alistair thinks he has her all figured out, Belle is just another person trying to con him into a deal, and confronts her.

Belle stood with her jaw clenched and arms crossed over her chest. Alistair waltzed right out the front door, letting it slam behind him. _Good riddance,_ she thought. Everyone always assumed she couldn’t handle the business side of the store. And she was absolutely sick of it.

A swift knock at the door interrupted her stomping off to the back room. With a loud groan, she marched up to the door and cracked it halfway.

“We’re closed,” she mumbled.  

Mr. Gold shoved his cane between the cracked door, keeping it from shutting. “It’s Alistair, I have something for you.”

She yanked open the door and before she could say a word Mr. Gold dangled a set of keys between them. He was inches away from her, a small smirk on his face.

“I found these,” he said. “They were laying on the sidewalk just outside the door.  Thought you might know who they belonged to.” She swore she heard a hint of sarcasm under his words. She glared back at him.

The monogram key chain, with her initials, glistened in the sun. A dead giveaway of who the keys belonged to. She couldn’t even begin to hide her pout. But at least that task was checked of her list.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold.”

“You’re welcome Miss French,” he said. He pressed the keys into her hand, letting his hand linger over hers for much longer than needed. “Oh, and you look marvelous. I’m sure the shut ins will be glad to have you delivering their flowers and not Maurice.”

Her mouth fell open, she forced a chuckle, “Thank you, again.”

Her eyes darted over his face. She’d never been so close to him before. He was even more handsome up close. She studied the lines around his mouth and his whisky colored eyes. If she took a deep enough breath she could smell the hint of cologne on his skin, a mixture of vanilla and pine.

Something like a smile pulled at his lips as he moved his hand back to his jacket pocket. A moment later he was half way down the street as Belle still stood in the flower shop doorway, clutching the keys against her chest.

Being that close to him, and hearing her name on his lips had somehow melted away the anger she’d felt just minutes ago. It was replaced with an electric buzz of something she didn’t have a word for.

It took her back to the first time she’d climbed to the top of the library tower. She was eight, and her father finally gave her permission to conquer the narrow steps leading to the top. She stood right on the edge, behind the clock face, and looked down at her town. She was scared as hell, her knees shook, but she couldn’t turn away.

Her hands were cold as ice when she finally felt her heart return to its rightful spot. She grabbed a coat, triple checked the door behind her, and jumped into her car. She would have to deal with whatever just happened later. If she didn’t start her deliveries soon she’d never get through them all in time for Anna’s party.

Less than two minutes later, she pulled off the road and into a spot in front of the chocolate shop, Would You Like to Build a Truffle _._ It wouldn’t be Valentine’s Day without chocolate. Lucky for her, her best friend was the best chocolatier in the world.

“Anna?” she called, as she opened the door. The smell of warm chocolates washed over her.  

“Belle!” Anna came spinning out of the kitchen. Her auburn colored hair, sat on her head in a messy topknot, and chocolate was smeared across her cheeks.

“Try this!”  Her eyes beamed with pride as she popped the little chocolate ball into Belle’s mouth.

“It’s delicious!” Belle said through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel.

Anna squealed, her mouth going a hundred miles per hour about all the trendy ingredients she had to use to make it. Belle felt like a bobble head, nodding along to her words. But  she found it hard to focus when she couldn’t decide if the memory of Mr. Gold’s eyes flickering over her body in a more than friendly way was real or imagined.

“Earth to Belle,” the click of Anna’s fingers brought Belle back to Earth. “Are you even listening?”

 Belle’s cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry, I have a lot of my mind. And I really need to get going. You can tell me more tonight at your party, okay?

 Anna nodded and smiled as she went to work boxing chocolates. “So anyone special getting a delivery from you this year?” she asked, “other than the shut ins.”

Belle rolled her eyes, forcing away the instant picture of a handsome gentlemen in an all-black suit. Anna was always going on about how she needed to find a beau, especially since her and Kristof were hitched. Knowing her there was bound to be a set up at the party.

"Really, Anna?”

Anna stacked the little pink heart shaped boxes in Belle’s arms.  “I only want to see my best and longest friend happy.”

“I am,” she shouted over her shoulder as she walked back out into the cold February air.

As she walked back to her car and idea started to form in her mind. One she knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore. She finished her deliveries as fast as she could.

Just as the sun fell and cast a golden haze over Storybrooke, she pulled her car into the long driveway at the end of town. She pulled her coat tight around her middle, and tip toed her way over the muddy path up to Alistair’s front door.

* * *

* * *

                                                                 

 

Alistair sat on  his leather couch with the newspaper in hand. A cup of hot tea steamed on the  small side table, and the sound of mumbled local news was perfect white noise. His jacket was thrown over the kitchen chair, his black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A perfectly normal night.

He lifted his eyes over his paper, a light tapping noise catching his attention. He listened for it again, but when nothing came he turned back to his paper. Children had been daring one another to knock on his door for decades. He’d stopped falling for that long ago.  

He flipped the paper to the second page, reading about a wolf attack out near the Toll Bridge when it started again, this time a little louder.

With two fingers pressed to his temples, he stood  and dropped his newspaper in the kitchen trash can. He craned his neck around the hallway corner, trying to get a peak of who it was. The person must have been short, he couldn’t even see  a strand of hair through the windows of his double doors.  The knocking came again, even louder.

He slowly made his way across the cherry floor, halfway hoping if he went slow enough the intruder would give up and run away. The double door let out a loud creek as he pulled it open. The cold air from outside came rushing over him, sending goose flesh over his bare forearms.

A ginormous bouquet of pink peonies stared back at him. A breath caught deep in his throat as he spotted the red lace dress underneath the white wool coat.  He raked hand through his thick mop of hair, suddenly insecure. Belle peaked her head from around the peonies, her cheeks matched the flowers hue.

A giant smile stretched across her face, her soft blue eyes lit up when they met his.  The thin lines across her forehead were the only give away that she was nervous.  A flicker of hope sprang in his chest. Had she felt what he felt outside the shop?  But he didn’t allow the thought to linger long, pushing it deep down and drowning it with reality.

It didn’t take long for Mr. Gold to realize what had happened at the flower shop. Nothing more than what countless others had tried before. _Well, at least it isn’t another girl scout._

“Hello, Alistair. How are you this evening?” Belle’s voice was a tad too high pitched, she sounded more nervous than a cat around water.

A small smile touched his lips before disappearing into a scowl.  She’d surprised him, using his first name again, almost throwing him off balance. He recovered  and pointed his finger down to the vase of peonies,  “Do I need to remind you that I’m not one of your shut ins?”

Belle’s shoulders drooped, her head bowed down to the flowers. A slight pang of guilt tugged at his midsection. Again, he had to remind himself what was really happening.  A deal with the devil, anything to keep the precious shop.

“I remembered you looking at the flowers this morning. I thought maybe you’d like some for your home.  For Valentine’s Day.”

_She’s good,_ he thought. But there was one thing Alistair Gold knew for certain. No one ever came to him for any reason other than to get themselves out of trouble. He took the flowers from her hands, placing them on the entry table next to him. The scent was overwhelming, he held his breath to keep from choking on the overly sweet perfume.

“Thank you, Miss French,” he said, “but I do know why you’re really here.”

Belle’s eyes went round, “You do?”

Alistair bared his teeth in a devilish grin. Of course he knew. But he was about to prove her wrong. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t actually a monster.

“I’m not going to take the shop from your father, Belle,” he paused, watching recognition cloud her eyes, “ It may come as a surprise to you, but I’m not as beastly as you’ve heard.  I only wanted to arrange a new payment plan. One that suited his needs better.”

Belle folded into herself, looking impossibly small in front of him, her face crumpled and her eyes glistened with held back tears.  Alistair frowned,   _Why is she sad, I thought she’d be happy to know._

“Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry, maybe I should go.” Belle rocked back and forth on her feet. _She really didn’t know._

“Wait,” he said. Belle shook her head and turned back toward the steps. Alistair stepped out onto the porch, melted snow soaking through his slippers, “ Belle, please don’t go.”

She turned to face him, a single tear rolled down her wind burned cheek.  Making Belle upset was never his intention.  He pinched his eyes closed, trying to wrap his head around the situation. If she hadn’t been here to make a deal, why was she standing on his porch in freezing temps to give him a bouquet of peonies?

“You really didn’t know about the missed rent?”

Belle shook her head, “No.”

Alistair cleared his throat, practicing his next words in his head multiple times before letting them free, “Belle, would you like to come in? I could make you some tea.”

She looked up from her shoes, the oversized smile back in place. “I guess I could stay for a moment or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick around and find out what captures Belle's attention the moment she steps into Alistair's house, and what makes him so cold to the rest of the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Alistair find themselves bonding and growing closer, but both have pasts that refuse to stop haunting them.

Belle took a step closer toward the entrance, but Alistair shooed her back before the first foot could hit the dark wood floors.

He scowled at her heels, “The shoes stay outside.”

Belle rolled her eyes and kicked off her shoes, “Better?”

Alistair nodded and pressed his back against the door, making room for her to come in. It didn’t take long to see why he’d asked her to remove her muddy shoes. His house was spotless from top to bottom. So spotless, in fact, that her reflection stared back at her everywhere she looked.

The walls were a deep red and the furniture a deep brown. Several paintings hung within eyesight. The amount of furniture and antiques would make any normal home feel crowded, but here it seemed everything fit perfectly into its spot. Her eyes danced around , bouncing from one item to the next, trying to memorize every unique piece

She decided the home was much like Alistair, himself. Mysterious and sophisticated, with a little bit of quirkiness thrown in.

Ahead, the last beams of sunlight filtered through the kitchen’s bay window, and to her right was a grand staircase leading to a second story. Though way too big for one person, the house was even more perfect than she had imagined.

Beads of sweat quickly began to form  over the back of her neck. The house was much warmer than she kept her own, but after standing out in the cold February air, the warmth was welcome.

Shrugging off her wool coat, she hung it next to Alistair’s black one, and followed him farther into his castle. Large French doors stood to her left, cracked just enough for her to peek inside.

Belle gasped, pushing the doors farther open. Her hands fluttered to her lips, “Alistair, this is incredible.”

She knotted her hands behind her back, willing herself to stay in place, but the pull of the room was too strong for her to resist.  She walked inside, standing in the middle, surrounded by what must have been at least a thousand books.

The only thing that wasn’t a book, was the white chaise. It sat against a window, overlooking a small garden,  padded with pillows of every shape and size, each one the same color as the burgundy walls of the entry way.  The room couldn’t have been more perfect if she had designed it herself.

She glanced over her shoulder, remembering she wasn’t alone. Alistair leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Go ahead,” he said.  His voice was the same usual cold tone, but she didn’t miss the way his lips turned up into a smile.

She ran to the nearest wall, brushing her hands over the books, drinking in each title and author. It’d been months since she’d last been in a library, being here now made her feel the same deep ache as when the town library was shut down a year ago.

Being a librarian had been her dream job, and for a few years she lived it. The flower shop was great, but nothing would ever replace the feeling of working with books day in and day out.

Alistair cleared his throat, pulling her from her thoughts and back to the entrance where he stood. Her hands lingered on the edge of the shelf, before falling to her sides again. Now, she stood in the home of the very man that took her dream away.

“I’m sorry. I should be leaving,” she said, shuffling away from the shelves.

 He shook his head, “No, Stay,” he said while taking a step forward, his usual blank expression fading away into sincerity. She nodded and turned back to the shelves.

It didn’t take long for her hands to find the books again, but she couldn’t comprehend a single title in front of her. Inside, her heart pulled two directions. One reminding her Alistair was nothing but heartless, money hungry man, and the other was mesmerized by the way he’d looked at her, like she was some sort of magic.  

“Have you read this one?” Alistair asked.

A shiver crept up her arms and over her neck at the closeness of his voice. She tilted her head, peeking over her shoulder. He stood only a few inches behind her, his eyes raised over her head.

Reaching over her shoulder, he plucked the book from the shelf.  As he pressed it into her hand, his shirt brushed lightly against her shoulder. She took a deep breath, sending her shoulders upwards, and farther into his arm. She squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating on her breath. _Breath in, one two three, breath out, one two three._

Opening her eyes, she read the title out loud, “Lolita. I think so, maybe?”

Of course she had, fifteen years ago, for some high school class she barely remembered. But she was finding it too difficult to make a coherent sentence with him so close. A single step backwards and her back would press against his chest. His arms could wrap around her middle…

“You’re welcome to borrow it,” Alistair said, interrupting her very improper daydream.

Behind her, he took a half step closer. A small hint of whiskey floated under her nose. Her knees wobbled underneath her.

Belle was quite certain that if she didn’t do something, her heart would explode from her chest. Slowly, she turned towards him, digging her pink nails into the book in her hands. They were so close that the tips of her toes pressed into his slippers.

Her eyes fixated on the top button of his shirt, before raising to his face. The color had drained from his skin, but his eyes were darker than ever. His lips were parted to speak, but nothing came. Nothing, but more secret thoughts. _What would it be like to kiss you?_  

 “Thank you,” she whispered between them.

 “You’re welcome.”  She could feel his eyes on her lips, on her chest, and everything in between.

  She took a step backwards, raising a hand to her head. Too many thoughts and feelings rushed through her, giving her a headache. Maybe the long years of being single had gotten to her, after all. But deep down, she knew Alistair was not the man to fill the emptiness.

 Not that he would want to, anyways. She was sure she was reading him wrong. She wasn’t the type to draw attention from a sophisticated man like him.

 When she looked up again, Alistair was making his way toward the chaise. Part of her ached to follow him, feeling his absence in front of her like a missing limb. Instead, she willed herself to turn toward the books once more. Her mind winning the round, and reigning over her heart.

* * *

Alistair pulled a pillow into his lap, hugging it against his middle. He watched as Belle pulled another book from the shelf.  Her shoulders rose and fell in time with the beat of his heart. Something had changed inside him, leaving him feeling more alive than ever.

She crossed the distance between them, sitting down on the far side of the chaise. “This one looks familiar.”

She held out the book towards him, he studied the cover.  He frowned, “It’s from the library, I took it the night after it closed.”

“You mean the night after you forced us to close, because it wasn’t bringing you any money?”

His heart dropped into his stomach as her words settled, heavy as an anchor. Maybe he really was the monster everyone believed him to be.

“Belle, I’m sorry…” 

To his surprised, she interrupted him,  waving her hand in front of her face. “Tell me, Mr. Gold. What is your favorite book in your library?”

He winced at the use of his formal name; at how quickly he could go back to being a stranger and not a friend.  He sat in silence, his eyes narrowed at her. 

“If you could read one book for the rest of your life, which one would it be?” she prodded.

“I know what favorite means, Miss French.”

Belle took a seat on the edge of the chaise, her feet crossed underneath her. “Then tell me.” 

“I don’t have one.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him, “Do you even read the books you have or are they just there for decoration?”

Sighing, he made his way to the back of the room, to the only shelf with a door. The lock clicked as he entered a number combination. Inside were several books he cherished the most.

Alistair pulled a book from the middle of the shelf, bringing it back to where he’d left Belle sitting, a nervous smile on his face. He placed the book at her feet and went back for another, then another, and another.

Soon enough a dozen books sat at Belle’s side. All of them were children’s books, worn and torn from the years of use. Wringing his hands, he watched carefully as she thumbed through each one.

“Wow.”

“I know it’s silly, but these books are my most prized possessions.

“What makes these more special than any of the rest?” She asked. 

“There the only thing I have from my childhood life. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.”

Belle smiled, and picked up another book, an old copy of Peter Pan, every page dog-eared.

“If I had to choose, that one would be my favorite of all time.”

Belle laughed, “I can tell.”

Alistair smiled, his heart fuller than it had been in ages. In the time Belle had been there, she’d become a friend, someone that filled the emptiness that had haunted him for years.

He scooted closer to her, letting his leg brush against hers. “I think it’s only fair if you tell me your favorite book now that you know mine.”

Just as she began to answer, an old black and white picture fluttered from the book and into her lap.  Alistair gripped his cane tightly, anger and embarrassment bubbling inside him. He’d long forgotten the picture of Milah, his ex-wife, stuck in the book years ago during one of his many moves.

“Who is this?” Belle asked, “She’s quite beautiful.”  Belle held up the picture.  With a single movement, Alistair ripped the picture from her hand, crumpled it, and shoved it into his pants pocket.

“Someone  better forgotten,” he grumbled.

He ran from the room, his signature cold stare back in place. It was time for Belle to leave. He’d been wrong, this wasn’t a good thing.  Nothing about her visit had done either of them any good.

Belle skipped out into the hall, stepping between him and the door. Her eyes and smile gentle, pleading with him to look at her. When she had his attention she reached out for his arm, wrapping her small fingers around his wrist.

“It’s funny isn’t it? The one’s we’d like to forget the most are the ones that take up the most space.”

Alistair sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. In no mood to entertain company, he scoffed at her words, hoping she’d give up.

“With time, and new people to fill the space, it can get better.” Belle took a step closer to him, her hand still on his arm. He closed his eyes, letting her touch sooth the wounds that twenty something years couldn’t heal.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his head lowered to the floor.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four will be here soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Alistair finally sit down to a cup of tea. Belle has doubts about their friendship, and Alistair starts to realize some of the mistakes he's made in Storybrooke.

Belle rocked onto the tips of her toes, fighting the nervous energy eating away at her. She could tell he didn’t want her there, but she wasn’t ready to leave.  She couldn’t fight the pull to be there with him. Just as friends of course. You could never have too many friends.

“How about that tea?”  

Alistair smiled softly at her, “Sure.”

Belle followed at his heels, excited to see more of his house. The kitchen was just as beautiful as the entry had been, and now she could catch a glimpse of the living room as well. She was surprised to see even more books stuffed into almost every corner of the room.

As she turned back to say something about the books, Belle caught Alistair fishing the photo from his pocket. He took one last look at it and tossed it into the trash. A small folded paper floated to the floor, without him noticing.   

Belle scooped the paper off the floor. She was ready to hand it over when the black scratchy writing caught her eye. There were four names, the last one was the only she one she recognized. It was two names actually. Her fathers, and her own. Beside every name, but their's, was a single word.   ** _Eviction_**

Her breath caught in her throat. She folded the paper in half, “Alistair, you dropped this.”

After he retrieved the paper from her, Belle took a seat at the small round dining table. She watched as he made tea, each movement precise and well thought out. He seemed nervous, but she couldn’t imagine why. Surly, he’d had more important people in his home than her.

Belle tried to push away the picture of the little white paper. But it kept coming back up, like the image of an awful news headline you just can’t forget.  Her thoughts were scattered. _Had he lied on the porch? Was he really planning on closing the shop?_ And if he hadn’t, why was he sparing her family while taking away the homes and businesses of others?

Belle picked at her nails, a nasty habit she’d tried to quit, but it always came back when she was under stress. Again, she felt torn. Their conversation in the library and been sweet and simple. It had made her forget the myths about the monster, but the little white paper had brought doubts back to the surface.

Belle straightened her back, and placed a smile on her face as Alistair made his way to the table with tea. He took his spot in front of her, his foot bumping into hers underneath the table.  She nodded her thanks, before pulling a cup of the warm liquid up to her lips.

* * *

           

 

Alistair leaned an elbow into the table. He stared down into his tea, swirling a spoon of honey into the liquid. He wished more than ever before, and it had been several times he’d had the thought, that he had a time machine. He hadn’t meant to be so rude to Belle. But Milah. She still boiled his blood more than he’d like to admit.

Wanting to clear the air, he racked his brain for something to talk to Belle about, but kept coming up short. He was sure she wouldn’t be interested in the antique shop, or his business model. So instead, they sat in silence.            

The minute hand on his wrist watch made five complete circles before Belle finally broke the quiet.

“What’s stopping you?”

Alistair peeked up from his cup, meeting her bright eyes that were full of questions. Her nails tapped against the wooden table, her knee bouncing into the beat. He wondered if she thought he didn’t have any feeling in his bad leg, or if she didn’t realize her toes were bumping up and down against his ankle.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, her shoulders hunched forward. “What’s stopping you from closing the flower shop? My father is late on rent. Isn’t that what you do in those situations?”

Air rushed out of his lungs. Her words felt like a punch in the gut. He didn’t want her to see him like that; a cold blooded lizard only out for his best interest. There may be some truth to it, sure, but to hear it from her was the absolute worst.

His hand fell, resting on the knee of his bad leg, his memory flipped back to the day of the accident. “Your father is sick, Belle. He needs the flower shop to keep up with his medical bills,” he answered. _And a man needs work to keep his mind busy when his body is failing him._

Belle met his eyes for a fraction of a second before staring back down at her drink. She didn’t trust his words, why should she?

“I’ve been down on my luck before. Before I came here, to Storybrooke, I was a sad excuse of a man with nothing to my name. Everyone counted me out after my injury…” he paused, realizing she was staring at him with narrowed eyes, her mouth was a straight line, her lips almost disappearing into her face.

“If that’s the case…” Belle sighed, “If you really understood, then why the library? There were people there that needed their job as well, Alistair.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she was right. Of course she was right.

He’d had his reasons, but they weren’t good enough. In his mind, the flower shop was tiny, and Maurice had been nothing but a loyal renter, and of course he’d be lying if he said it had nothing to do with the girl living above the shop.

But Cora Mills, the head of the library, had stepped on his toes one too many times. He’d closed the library to show her that he couldn’t be stopped. He’d have all the power he wanted to take, until Storybrooke was his.

Belle stared at him, waiting for an answer. “I didn’t agree with the way it was being run. Maybe one day there will be someone better suited to reopen it.”

Before Belle could respond a song interrupted, coming from the entry way. The lyrics to “I’m a Woman Hear Me Roar” drifted into the room. Alistair covered his mouth, hiding the giggle he couldn’t keep in.

“That’s my phone,” Belle said, her cheeks flushing bright red. She jumped up from her chair, as if she couldn’t stand to sit in his presence anymore. He wondered if she had somehow willed the device into ringing.

“Belle, wait.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized it. She spun around, a strand of hair sticking on her lips.

“I’m not going to close the shop, I promise. Please, trust me on that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 we will meet Belle's ex, Grayson. And see a softer side of Alistair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle takes a phone call from her daughter's father. Alistair softens up and does something that surprises the both of them.

Belle hurried down the hallway, focused on shutting up her phone, and pretending she didn’t feel a thousand butterflies swimming through her body.

“Of freaking course,” she muttered as the song faded as soon as she yanked the phone from her coat pocket. Before a missed call notification could even pop up the phone started ringing again. Grayson’s number flashed across the screen.

Belle’s mind began to buzz. Two calls in a row had always been their signal, the one thing they’d actually agreed on. Two calls meant an emergency. Guilt roared through her mind. She'd let the day's odd turn of events to distract her from her daughter's first weekend alone with her father. 

A million worst case scenarios played out in her head at once as she muted the phone and threw her coat over her shoulders, the front door closing a little too hard behind her. 

“Grayson? What’s wrong?”

“Where the hell are you? Two calls. That’s our signal, remember?” Grayson bellowed. 

Belle sighed as she heard his voice, the normal blind rage mixed with a prefect amount of shaming. If something were really wrong she’d know it right away. No, nothing was wrong, this was normal Grayson behavior.

Belle slipped back into her muddy heels and sat down on the first step, regretting her choice of outfit. The winter air was unforgiving, chilling her legs through her thin lace stockings.

“What do you need, Grayson?”

“Quinn is sick and I need you to come and get her. Now.”

Belle’s head dropped to her hand, “How exactly is she sick?”

“She’s puking all over the place. Can you just get down here? I can’t leave the house, one of my buddy’s has the truck.”

Belle groaned. This was not the way she wanted Valentine’s Day to end. For her, or Quinn. Grayson continued on, giving her the most intimate details of her daughter’s sick tummy.  Silently, Belle counted to ten and took a deep breath, calming herself before speaking.

“It sounds like a 24 hour thing. I can tell you what to do, but she will be better in the morning. This is the first time you’ve seen her in months. The father daughter dance is tomorrow…”

Grayson made a half human noise, maybe something like an injured warthog, “Just like you trying to pawn the sick kid on me. No. You’re her mom, come get her now. End of discussion.”

Without another word, he hung up. As frustrated as she was, Belle knew Quinn would be much better off in her care anyways. She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hands, trying, and failing, to hold back her tears.

* * *

 

 

The front door creaked open, startling Alistair from his tea. He’d all but put money on her deciding the phone call was the perfect out to their strange and uncomfortable conversation.  He eyed Belle slipping into the door, she hugged her coat tight around her middle.

Trying to be a gentleman, he rose from the table when she entered. Instead he knocked his hip on the wooden table, sending strings of curse words from his mouth. He bit his tongue and smiled at Belle.

“If you’d like I can warm your tea back up. Or make you another cup.” Anything to have a few more minutes with her. He hadn’t stopped thinking about how he’d do anything to undo the mistake of the library, and a hundred others like it. Anything to have her look at him like she did in the library, or to feel her touch again.

Belle frowned, “Actually I came to tell you goodbye, and thank you for the tea. Something has come up, but I do hope to talk again soon.” Her voice sounded robotic and rehearsed. He wondered how long she’d stayed outside practicing her exit.  

Then he noticed the red rings around her eyes, and the black smears of makeup marking her cheeks.

“Is everything alright?”  

Belle shook her head with a nervous smile, “It’s my daughter, Quinn. She’s with her father in Portland. He called to tell me she was sick.”

Alistair thought of the little girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes always tugging at Belle’s side as they walked through town. Worry shot through his chest. It must be bad if she needs to drive all the way out to Portland. “I’m so sorry, is it serious?”

Belle smiled, “No, it’s nothing serious. She just needs her mother.”

Alistair’s mouth pulled down into a frown, “Is there anything I can do?”

At his words, Belle fell apart. Quick, heavy tears flooded down her cheeks. Alistair’s hands balled into fists. He had no idea what to do, usually he was the reason for the tears.

Slowly, He held out a hand to her arm, remembering how she’d soothed him earlier. Belle stepped into him, burying her head into his chest. Alistair wrapped an arm around her, and awkwardly patted at her hair, hoping he wasn’t making the situation worse.

Belle pushed out of his grip, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I need to go.”

“Belle, hold on.” Alistair chewed on his bottom lip, letting his next words sink in before he said them out loud, “Let me drive you,” he whispered.

Belle wiped at her makeup, only smearing it further. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine, but a little extra help never hurts. No reason for you to be out there alone in the dark,” he prodded. Of course she didn’t want him to go. Why would she ever want to spend hours confined to a small space with him? But he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to help.

“But Portland is two hours away. It will be near midnight by the time I’m back.”

Alistair smiled, “I have nothing better to do…”

Belle’s eyebrows wrinkled, “Are you sure?”

 _Never been more sure of anything in my life._ “Drive your car home, I’ll meet you in ten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Road trip! Who doesn't love a good road trip? What do you think these two will talk about for two hours?!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip begins! Belle seems to know exactly how to get Alistair to open up.

Chapter 6

Belle ran out the door, her mind once again speeding in several directions. She never expected the night to end like this. There were things far worse endings to Valentine’s Day than spending it with Alistair Gold, but none worse than her daughter suffering and her father not doing a thing about it.

It wasn’t the first time Belle had thought of ripping away every last right Grayson had to their daughter. He’d done nothing but prove over and over again that he’d fail her. But he was her father. Belle knew very well what it was like growing up without one of your parents.

At least she could make one solid decision. Alistair’s thoughtful offer had swayed her opinion of him. He’d made mistakes, but she knew now;  it would be a much bigger mistake to not give the man a second chance.  She’d start there, and once Quinn was back where she should be, she’d figure the rest out too.

Belle settled into her car and spotted the last bouquet balancing in the passenger seat. _Anna._ She wouldn’t be going to the party tonight, and Anna would be worried if she didn’t give her a reason why. As she headed down the driveway she dug her phone out of her coat and dialed her number.

“Hello?”

“Anna, sweetheart, I can’t make it to the party. Please don’t hate me. Quinn is sick, and I have to drive to Portland…”

“Whoa, slow down. Quinn’s sick? Is she okay?”

“It’s nothing more than a stomach bug, if anything is wrong at all, but you know Grayson.”

Belle could practically hear Anna rolling her eyes over the phone. “I know, I shouldn’t have even left her with him to begin with.”

Anna sighed, “Do you want me to go with you? I know you hate driving at night.”

Belle’s cheeks burned. She never kept anything from Anna, but she wasn’t ready to explain Mr. Gold coming along on the trip with her. “I’ll be fine. Enjoy your party, okay?”

Belle pulled into her usual parking spot as she clicked off the phone. The rearview mirror was dark. If she knew anything about Alistair, it was that he always showed up exactly when he said he would. Meaning she had just enough time to change clothes before he showed up. She jumped out of the car and ran up the twenty stairs leading to her home.

Dashing into her room, she pulled on her most comfortable yoga pants and a low cut, hunter green sweater. The one Anna always said made her look ‘casual sexy’. Whatever that meant.  And a pair of ballet flats. After being barefoot around Alistair all evening, her height insecurities were all but gone.

Locking the door behind her she took the stairs down two at a time.  Alistair walked around the corner just as she hit the sidewalk. _Right on time._

He had taken time  to change into his own road trip attire, black jeans and a simple green long sleeve shirt.  She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her in her giggles.

Alistair gave her a smile that sent electricity to every part of her body. Somehow the street clothes made him even more sexy than before. She couldn’t help but notice the way the jeans fit very snug in all the right places

“This is for you,” Alistair said. He held a single pink peony, his hand outstretched towards her. She’d been so focused on how good he looked that she’d missed it before.

“Oh I must have dropped it on my way upstairs.” 

He laughed and pressed the flower into her palm, fingers lingering for a moment longer than really needed, “No, I brought it for you,” he said. “You brought me flowers, so it’s only fair that someone brought you one too. I would have gotten you a full bouquet, but it seems the florist is a little distracted tonight.”

Belle’s mouth dropped. No one had given her a Valentine’s Day gift in years. The single flower warmed her heart. _How could he be the same man that ruined lives on a daily basis?_

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

With a quick nod he turned toward his giant black Cadillac and opened the passenger door.

“We can take my car,” Belle said.

Alistair turned and gave her little blue Cobalt a once over.  He cocked an eyebrow at her, his nose wrinkled. He looked absolutely appalled at the idea of it.

“What is wrong with my car?”

“It’s just so….small…and new.”

Belle flashed a smile, “Well us being friends is new, and that’s not so bad, right?” she said. “Plus it’s much more environmentally friendly.”

Alistair laughed out loud, his voice echoing through empty street. “Who am I to deny your earth saving ways,” he said, dramatically opening his arms in a mock bow.  “I’m still driving though.”

 

* * *

  

He dropped into the driver’s side, his knees bouncing of the steering wheel. He wasn’t a tall man, but Belle was much shorter than him, making the seat a tight fit. His hands shook from nerves, making it difficult to find the right handles to adjust the seat. It kept bouncing forward and backward, and then up and down. _Stupid Car._

He kept his face turned forward, trying to hide the rosy red blush on his cheeks. _You’re nothing but an old fool, Alistair._ What was he even doing here? Driving a woman he barely knew two hours away and even bringing her a flower. He was acting like some love sick fool again. And that was not what Alistair Gold was.

No, he’s a loner, solitude fit him like a glove. So what was this feeling he felt? 

“Alistair?” Belle’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He glanced in her direction. Belle sat cross legged, her bare feet wiggling underneath. She looked full of guilt and worry, but still so beautiful. The green sweater had only magnified the beauty of her eyes. He blinked several times, forcing his mind to reset.

“Yes?”

“You really don’t have to do this,” she said.  Maybe she had come to her senses and  had realized letting a strange man, known as the town monster no less, drive her to another city wasn’t a good idea after all.  This was her way of politely asking him to let her out so she could run for her life.

“Belle, if you’re having second thoughts of me going with you…”

She threw her hands up in defense, “No! I want you here,” she mumbled.

Alistair still didn’t believe her, but the smile on her face was too much for him to argue with. “Well then it’s settled. Let’s get going.”

She reached for his hand once more and held it in hers.  “Thank you,” she said.

He paused, not wanting to pull his hand away from hers. He stared down at her hands, wondering what they would feel like on his arms, his shoulders, his face. He let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold, and met her eyes again. She was staring at him, probably wondering why he was acting like such an idiot.

He pulled his hand away slowly, “You’re welcome.”

He yanked at the gear stick and shifted into drive. Tonight he’d enjoy the company. Keep it light, nothing deep. Definitely no mention of Milah or the library. Tomorrow everything would be normal again. Belle would stay her distance and he’d be his same lonely self. 

He focused his eyes on the yellow middle line, taking them toward the end of town. The empty feeling in his chest reminded him he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted, but it was just the way it had to be.

 

 “Tell me about the picture,” Belle said.

Alistair swung his head towards her, confused. Wasn’t this exactly what they weren’t supposed to talk about?

 “The girl, were you in love with her?”

His frustration bubbled over the edge, he slapped the top of the steering wheel with his palm. Belle jumped a little in her seat. Instantly, he regretted his outburst.  It wasn’t her that made him upset, after all. It was the stupid, retched memory of wasted years.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I told you she was better off forgotten.”

“We have two hours in this car, don’t you think we might as well get to know each other?”

Alistair frowned. He didn’t know if he wanted that or not. On one hand it meant getting to know more about Belle. The beautiful girl that had somehow cared enough to visit him without a double reason. The woman he secretly pined for, but would never, ever, dream of saying a word about it. On the other hand, it meant she’d know more about him. And someone having that kind of power over him was terrifying. He hadn’t let anyone in since Milah left him years ago.

He sighed, “Yes.”

“Yes we should get to know each other, or yes you were in love with her?”

“Both,” he groaned.

Belle raised an eyebrow, “Go on.”

“We were married, before I came to Storybrooke. I got injured at work, and then she left me for my boss. What else is there to know?”

He peeked at Belle, she was staring at her hands, her mouth clamped shut.

“After the accident,” he paused. “I lost my job, our home, her respect. She called me a coward.  I was depressed and unable to find a new job. So she left me for the foreman of my old job. Mr. Killian Jones.”

Belle stopped him from going any farther. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

Alistair flipped on the blinker, pointing the car out of Storybrooke and into the backwoods of Maine.  It was darker than he’d remembered back here. He was glad Belle wasn’t driving this alone.

“It’s fine. No one does. But that part of my life is over.”

For a while they were both quite.  Belle thumbed through radio stations, settling it on a mix of 60s and 70s hits. He wondered if she did it for him. _Does she think I’m so old that I don’t listen to anything but this?_

He almost asked, but just as he began to speak she pulled some sort of electric book reader out of her  glove box.  Just as he figured.  His past had scared her away. He should have never told her.

As the road changed from winding curves to straight highway, his interest in her peaked again. From the corner of his eye he could see she was still reading. They’d been on the road for a good half hour already. It was going too quickly, he didn’t want it to end with his past being the last thing they talked about. But what could he talk about that would interest her more than whatever book she was reading.

He glanced at her again, the device was casting a soft light on her face. His heart quickened just thinking about her contagious smile and her beautiful emerald eyes. A stray hair had fallen into her face, he ached to brush it away and tuck it behind her ear.                

Alistair straightened in his seat, trying to forget about the wisp of chestnut hair and focus on the road. But it didn’t take long for him to look at her again.

As if she knew he was staring, Belle turned and faced him. Knowing he was caught, he tried to get himself to focus back on the road, but she was so damn beautiful. Instead he slowed the car, so he could get a better look at her. He wanted nothing more than to pull over and give her all of his attention.

Before he knew it he was reaching out and pushing away her hair. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination or reality when she leaned her head into his hand, brushing her cheek against his rough palm. As soon as it happened it was over and his hand was back on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we see Alistair open up a little and we learn a little about his past. But what about Belle?! Will we ever learn more about her? If you want to know our dear Belle then keep reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Alistair come closer together as the road trip continues. Belle suggests a food break, and flirting ensues. And Alistair pops a question!

Chapter 7

Belle’s forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. She watched the trees rushing by, fading into open land and a small town. She knew this route well. It was the same one she took once a month to let Quinn visit her father. Grayson had never came into Storybrooke, reminding her each time of what a waste of time the drive would be for him. Now, she felt being with him at all was a waste of Quinn’s.

Her hand rested on her cheek, it was still warm from the blush Alistair’s touch caused. If she tried hard enough she could imagine her hand was still his. A welcome distraction from the thought of a custody battle that was soon to come.

She wondered if maybe, just maybe he found her as attractive as she did him. Her attraction had only grew after he opened up to her. It was a brief moment, but it let her inside his mind for just a moment. How could she not feel something toward a man who loved so much that when he lost it, it destroyed him. She understood that feeling more than he could possibly know.

 She had told herself he was just being kind to the hysterical, crying woman in his home when he’d offered to drive. But then the flower, and the thing with her hair. Was it so far-fetched that he’d have a crush on her as well?

“It’s your time to be put on the spot,” Alistair said.

Belle turned to face him. He faced forward in his seat, but she could see the dimples in his cheek where his smile ended. He looked younger, more carefree. She wondered if it had anything to do with letting his secret past life out.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you come back to Storybrooke?”

Belle bit the inside of her cheek. No one knew the whole truth except Anna and her father. She wanted to tell him, but it was too much. She wasn’t ready yet.

“After my ex and I split, it just felt like the right thing to do. To get back on my feet and be around family when Quinn was born.”

“Okay, then why did you stay after you got back on your feet? You’re a smart woman, Belle. Any place would be lucky to have you.”

Belle blushed, “Storybrooke has always called me back no matter how far I’ve strayed. I’d like to think it’s where I’m meant to be. As if I were to leave I would miss some big moment, made especially for me.”  

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Alistair said.

They  locked eyes, and for the first time in forever something felt more like home than Storybrooke. Her reservations about Alistair melted away under the moonlight above them.  In one simple look, he made her feel like the only thing in the world that mattered. Her heart beat like mad, but she knew  the feeling to be true. She was falling in love with Alistair Gold.

 

Belle turned to face out the window again, just in time to notice the large green exit sign coming up. A rumble in her stomach reminding her she hadn’t ate anything since early that morning.

“We haven’t had dinner…”  She smiled.

Alistair glanced at her.  “No, I guess we haven’t.”

 “So maybe we should fix that.” She turned her body toward him. In the small car, that meant her chest was inches away from him. And she didn’t miss his glance downward before his eyes found her face.

He chuckled, “What about Quinn?”

Belle bit her lip and sat back against the seat.  She hoped he didn’t think she was a crappy mother. But she knew if she was hungry she wouldn’t be a very good caretaker. She needed to get something into her system. Plus, she wanted to experience this road trip fully with him. Even if it wasn’t the happiest of destinations.

“Drive-through.”

“Drive-through?”, he repeated, “I don’t eat that junk.”

Belle started at him, mouth agape. “Are you serious?” Belle stared at him wide eyed.  Burgers and fries were the food of the gods.  Alistair cracked a confused smile sending her into a giggling fit. “Turn off at the next exit. We are eating McDonalds.”

Ten minutes later they were back on the highway. The smell of grease and beef filled the car. Belle took a deep breath taking it all in and opened the first of two bags. She pulled out a giant container of fries and popped one in her mouth.

Belle turned to face Alistair and wiggled a fry in front of him before eating it. He was shaking his head back and forth and muttering words that sounded like curses under his breath, but the smile dancing in his eyes told her he enjoyed her antics. She loved seeing him so free and wearing his emotions on his sleeve. He’d even leaned back in his seat and let one of his hands fall to the window sill.

“You’re really going to eat that crap?” Alistair snarled at the food like it was going to bite him back.  His voice had loosened up, he was comfortable, and his accent had grown much thicker.

Not even the warm food balancing in her lap could keep chills from racing up her spine. She hand found him attractive before, but now it took all her will power not to blurt out how hot he looked when he moved his mouth that way.  Again, she wondered how not a single woman in Storybrooke hadn’t snagged him up.  But thank the gods they hadn’t.

“Just try one fry and if you hate it I will never ask you to eat drive through food again.”  Belle pulled out a fry and handed it his way, but he was still shaking his head.

“I don’t eat while I drive.”

Belle sucked her lip between her teeth.

“Here, let me.”

Belle scooted as close to him  as the seat belt allowed.  Electric butterflies swarmed throughout her body. She hadn’t let herself be so care free in far too long.  She lifted a fry to his mouth, her fingers just inches away from his lips. She tried to steady her shaking hand,  hoping he didn’t think she went around feeding grown men every day.

Alistair’s cheek brushed against her hand as he turned to look at her. His eyes had went serious, dark like the coffee sitting in the cup holder between them. She smiled hoping to lighten the moment.  He leaned in, biting into the top of the fry, his lips barely grazing her finger before pulling away.

Belle sat back against the seat.  Her heart beat against her ribs, threatening to break free. She ran her hands through her hair, twisting it around her fingers.  Anything to keep her hands busy. If she didn’t she was afraid they may have a mind of their own and starting roaming his body.

“That was bloody awful,” Alistair moaned, breaking the silence.

A nervous laugh floated from Belle’s chest, “Wait until you try the burger.”

“Only if you promise to feed it to me. I’m sure that’s the only way I’ll be able to stomach it.” Belle peaked at him from the corner of her eye. He winked at her and turned back to the road. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _She’s the only thing that matters_ , he thought. Somehow she’d walked into his life and overturned every bad day.  None of it mattered anymore, as long as he had her. And that absolutely terrified him. He had tried to keep his cool around her, to stay the same cold man he was to everyone else. But he couldn’t do it anymore.

Now what? Was he foolish enough to think she really did want more than a friendship with him? It was hard not to doubt that he was worthy of her, but he couldn’t deny the flirting. Which had been the most stressful event of his life. Flirting was not something that came natural to him, but he was learning that falling for Belle did.

He was thankful for the quiet moment between them. Belle sat bopping her head to a song he didn’t know, shoving fry after fry into her mouth. They were getting close now. Maybe another half hour. He wanted to slow down and soak up every moment, but he knew he couldn’t.

Quinn was sick and she needed her mom. And he planned to get there as fast as the law would allow, and to help in any way he could. That was the first step in being the man Belle _and Quinn_ deserved.

He’d been a coward for far too long, afraid of stepping out of the dark and getting burned. Now, he knew that with Belle by his side he could do anything.

Beside him Belle’s phone started to ring. She rummaged through her oversized bag, found the phone and brought it to her ear. Alistair didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it became harder to ignore the conversation as Belle’s voice became increasingly louder.

 “Seriously, Grayson? Could you be more of an ass?”

She tapped her foot on the floor board. She chewed on her lip as she listened.

Belle glared down at the clock on the center consol.  “We will be there in twenty minutes tops. That’s just before 10. Plenty of time for you to go drinking later.”

Alistair faced forward, one eye brow raised.  Grayson was so loud that he could hear him from the other side of the car. He hoped Quinn wasn’t in the same room, knowing just how damaging a drunk father could be.  

Belle tossed the phone onto the dash board. She pulled her legs up into her seat  and crossed her arms over her chest. He dared a look over and saw her eyes were wet with tears. A million thoughts raced through his head.  Ranging from cuddling Belle against his chest, letting her cry against him, to beating Grayson over the head with his cane.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his anger. It wasn’t his place. At least not yet.

 “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Belle turned to face him, black rivers of mascara blotting her face for the third time that day. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her.  Embarrassment flashed in her eyes before she yanked down the mirror and pressed the white material against her face. When she was finished the majority of her makeup was gone.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

He wanted to pull the words back into his mouth as soon as they came out. Where had that even come from? Being around her had made him much more open than he’d ever been, even with Milah.

“Thank you, but I’m sure I look an awful mess right now. I swear I’m not usually this emotional.”

He took the statement as an opening, “I take it you two don’t see eye to eye?”

Belle studied the handkerchief in her hand, wrapping and unwrapping the material around her index finger. “What you just witnessed is quite normal for us,” she said. Her usual confident tone had all but disappeared. “Today makes it harder. Valentine’s Day. Six years ago today he broke my heart and left me out on the streets. Two weeks later Quinn was born and I was back in Storybrooke.

“So that’s why you came back, because you had to?”

Belle nodded, “He told me to quit my job, that it was my place to stay home and take care of our child. I had no money, nowhere to go. ..”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, “No, don’t be. He’s an ass.  I know that there is someone much better for me,” their eyes met just for a moment before she continued, “I hope so anyways.”

“I hope so, too.”  That hope was what he was clinging to, anyways. That maybe he could somehow change the last two decades of his life and prove that he was worth loving. Probably an impossible task, but he was going to try.

“Belle, can I ask you something?” 

She twisted in her seat and reached out and touched his free hand lying on the seat between them.  She picked up his hand, pretending to inspect the antique, gold ring he always wore. He tried to hide the small grin on his face.  She was still nervous around him, but she was trying to find excuses to touch him. He liked that.

“Go ahead,” she said

“When we get back, and Quinn is better, would you like to come over for dinner?” he asked. Belle dropped his hand, and retreated back to her corner of the car, still he pushed forward, “A kind of make-up dinner. Your Valentine’s Day was ruined, and that’s no fair…”

 “Alistair Gold, are you asking me to be your Valentine?”  Her voice was light and playful, a perfect melody in his ear.  He held his palm out to her, hoping she’d take his hand again.

He smiled, “I guess so.”

Belle placed her hand in his.  And it fit perfectly, just the way he imagined.

“I’d love to be your Valentine, Alistair.”

He picked up their hands and brought it to his lips, leaving a light kiss right at the tip of her wrist. She smelled like the sweetest flowers mixed with the perfect amount of vanilla and old books. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Alistair arrive at Grayson's house to pick up Quinn. Things do not go as smoothly as Belle had hoped, resulting in Alistair stepping back into the role of the beastly man he'd always been.

Belle focused forward, her eyes wide and searching for the correct neighborhood road. Everything in Portland looked the same, nothing like Storybrooke where every house had its own special character. Her knee bounced up and down, keeping the beat of her heart.

They were getting close now; too close. Only a few miles before Alistair’s charm would be replaced with Grayson’s knack at being an ass. But she was more than ready to get her daughter back in her arms.

Belle lifted a hand to the dash, motioning to a road on the right, “It’s this one. His house is about a mile down the road.”

The headlights bounced off the back of Grayson’s annoyingly large truck as Alistair directed the car into the driveway. _So much for not having a way to Storybrooke._

The car was silent, nothing to be heard but Belle’s heavy breath as she gripped the door handle. Alistair side eyed her from the driver’s seat. He had no idea how much of a battle it was to stay calm in the storm that was Grayson.

It had been an instant 180. They’d been the perfect couple, the one that everyone hated for being so mushy in love. Until they weren’t. The longer they were together the more obvious it was that Grayson was looking for nothing but a trophy wife. And that was something Belle just couldn’t find in her heart to be. Resulting in Grayson becoming a giant bully.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Alistair asked. He slipped his hand around hers, bringing it to his lips once more. This time his kiss was a little harder, sending butterflies throughout Belle’s body.

Belle leaned across the center console, planting a gentle kiss on Alistair’s prickly face. “Thank you, but I have to do this alone.”

Alistair gave her a gentle smile, “I’ll be here.”

Belle counted to ten and gripped the metal knocker in the middle of Grayson’s door. It took three tries before Grayson finally opened the door.

“What took you so long?” he growled. He towered over her, shirtless, and beer in hand.

Belle swallowed back the vile rising in her throat, “Is Quinn asleep?”

“For a while now.”

Belle slipped past Grayson and headed straight back to the closet sized room. Quinn laid in the middle of her bed, snug inside the same Hello Kitty bedcovers as she had at home. Belle smiled. She had known the matching set would make her feel comfortable.

She gently shook Quinn’s shoulder until her little blue eyes popped open. Quinn shot up and threw her arms around Belle.

“Mom! You’re here!”

Belle’s hands fluttered to Quinn’s forehead checking for a fever, “How are you feeling, love?”

Quinn glanced at the door before whispering into Belle’s ear, “Mama, don’t tell dad, but I’m not really sick.”

“What? But dad said you were really sick with your tummy?”

Quinn shook her head, and stared down at her lap.

Belle pulled Quinn into her lap, wrapping her up in her arms like she’d done since the day she was born. “You can tell me, sweetie.”

“Daddy started drinking his special drinks, and I didn’t like the way he was talking.”

Belle flamed with anger. The rule was no drinking in front of Quinn. Period.  She lifted Quinn from the bed, leaving behind every belonging. Anything that was here could be replaced, but Quinn’s time could not.  This was the last nail in the coffin, Quinn was never coming back here.

Grayson leaned against the door frame, staring out at the car. He’d obviously realized Belle hadn’t been alone. _Great._

“I’m taking her out to the car, then I’ll come back in and talk.”

Grayson blocked her path with his body, “Oh sure,” he laughed, “Trust her with some old geezer. Sounds like a great plan. Mother of the year right here.”

Belle bit her lip, “I trust him more than you right now.”

She  shoved her way out the door and down the drive to her car. Alistair already had the back door open and she deposited Quinn into the seat. Alistair passed her his coat that had been draped over the driver’s seat.  

Quinn looked so tiny in the backseat with the large coat draped over her knees. Tears poured down Belle’s cheeks. How had she ever been so stupid to think Grayson would step up enough to be trusted with her alone.

“I’ll be right back, Quinn. This is Alistair Gold, you’ve probably seen him around town, right?”

Quinn nodded and smiled at him, “Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“Hello, Miss Quinn. It’s very nice to meet you,” Alistair offered a hand to the little girl. She took it and smiled wide.  Belle breathed a sigh of relief.

“If you need anything let him know, okay?”

“Sure, mom!”

Belle stomped up the driveway. From the porch, she gave the pair a final look. Alistair was sitting in the front seat, laughing and throwing his head backwards. Quinn peeked around the seat, scrunching her face up and poking her tongue out at him. Belle crossed her fingers and hoped she wasn’t telling him any embarrassing things about her.

With one last deep breath she yanked open Grayson’s front door. The plan was not to start a fight or give him any hint of what her plan was, but she also couldn’t let him get away with the drinking.

She found him in the kitchen, after following the sound of the popping of another beer can. “You cannot drink around our daughter. She needs a dad, not a drunk.”

Grayson pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter, a sly grin stretching across his face, the one that once upon a time had seduced her into being his girl. That seemed so long ago, and he seemed so far from the sophomore football star that was nothing but a gentleman. How easy it was for him to treat her like crap when she wasn’t on his side.

“Belle, come on baby. You know I’d never do anything to hurt her,” he said.

“Do I, Grayson? I’m well aware of what happens when you drink like this.”

“Well you want to know what I know, darling?” he said, one long finger pointed directly to his temple, “I know that I have no fucking clue who that old man is out there in the car with my daughter. And I do believe the rule, the one you made by the way, is that we meet each other’s significant others before Quinn does.”

Belle rolled her eyes, “He’s a friend.”

“Belle, when are you going to learn? Men don’t like women like you for your brains. He can say he’s your friend all he wants, but he really just wants in your pants.”

Belle closed her eyes, trying to regain some composer. She wasn’t a stupid young girl anymore, she knew his words weren’t true, but they still stung. It reminded her of how blind she’d been, and how she was nothing but a trophy for all the time they’d been together.

“I’m leaving now,” she said. Belle knew there was no chance of getting through to him when he was like this. It was best if she left and got Quinn home. “It’ll be a long time before you see Quinn again. Would you like to say goodbye?”

He followed her out the door and down the driveway. Alistair spotted them, his eyes narrowed in Grayson’s direction.  Belle wondered if he was rethinking his offer of dinner. What self -respecting man would want to be a part of this drama?

Belle tapped her knuckles against Quinn’s window. Alistair let it down just enough for Belle to talk through it, “Quinn, do you want to tell daddy bye?”

Quinn looked between Belle and Grayson, “No, mama. I’d like to leave now.”

Belle’s shoulders fell.  She’d been just loud enough for Grayson to hear. Belle turned around to face him. He was giving Alistair his best ‘look at these muscles, I could take you out with one hit’ look, through the windshield.

Then he turned his eyes on her. He looked like an angry animal, drunk and pissed off did not suit him well. It never had.  In the end it’s exactly what pulled them apart. He was sick of her nagging him to stop drinking,  so he kicked her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to force her.” She swallowed a smile, praying her face wouldn't give away how proud she was of Quinn.

 

* * *

 

 

Alistair’s hand wrapped around the door handle, watching Grayson’s every move. He didn’t like this guy. He stood there, looking like some overgrown playboy. Arms crossed over his chest, head held high. Did he really think he hadn’t done anything wrong?

Quinn had surprised him by opening up to him as soon as her mother was out of sight. She’d told him all about the drinking, swearing and slurring his words. Scaring the poor child enough for her to fake ill.

He had to force himself to stay in his seat. _It’s not your place_ , he told himself. But he couldn’t stop his blood from running hot.

Now, he couldn’t be bothered  to suppress the smug grin spreading across his face as Quinn stood up to her father. Good on her. The man didn’t deserve a goodbye. _He didn’t deserve a thing other than a swift kick in the arse_. Alistair twisted the top cap of the cane _, it would be quite satisfying to be the one to deliver that._

Grayson strode closer to the car, giving Alistair a better look at him.  The combined effect of the amount of alcohol he’d consumed and the poor lighting the car offered, Grayson looked like a zombie. Eyes glassed over and shadows filling his hollow cheeks.

He leaned into Belle’s face, his lips just inches away from hers. Alistair leaned forward. If he laid one finger on her, he’d be sure to break it. 

“You tell her to get out of the car and tell me goodbye. And why don’t you stop filling your daughters head with lies about me, you bitch.”

Before another word came out of his mouth Alistair jumped out of the car, pushing the cane into Grayson’s chest, forcing him away from Belle.

“I can handle him, Alistair. He’s just drunk. We can leave now,” Belle said, her voice a little shaky.

He didn’t take his eyes off of Grayson, “Belle, just get in the car,” he said with a bit harsher than he meant.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her bright eyes were misty and scared. Alistair reached a hand out to her, “I’m sorry. Please, get in the car so I can take you and Quinn home.”  Belle nodded and slipped down into the car next to Quinn.

Grayson chuckled, “She’s got you whipped, huh?”

Alistair dug his cane into the ground, stepping farther away from the car, hoping to shield any view from the car. Grayson stepped back along with him, and tripped over the edge of the concrete. Alistair caught him by the arm before he hit his knees. Grayson’s bare skin felt like ice under Alistair’s warm hand.  His sharp nails dug into him, twisting his arm enough to force Grayson to face him.  

“If I ever see you disrespect either of these ladies again, I promise you, you will regret it for the rest of your life,” Alistair said.  

“Fuck off, old man,” Grayson yelled, ripping his arm away and standing straight again.

A low grumble worked its way from Alistair’s throat. He raised his cane, slamming it into the side of Grayson’s leg. Grayson stumbled backwards, shock and pain reflected in his eyes.

“Get off my property before I call the cops,” Grayson said.

“Gladly.”

Alistair dropped into the driver’s seat without turning his back to Grayson. A minute later they were back on the road, speeding back toward home.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle isn't the kind of person to be okay with violence, even if it is well deserved. So how will she react to Alistair's outburst?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the events of the drive back to Storybrooke.

Warm air blasted from the vents of the car, as snow fell silently around them. They seemed to be the only people out. Belle wished she were home, too. She ran her fingers through Quinn’s blonde hair splayed over her lap. The quiet had put her to sleep an hour ago.

The closer to home they got, the farther her heart seemed to sink into her stomach. Violence was never the right answer, no matter how much Grayson may have deserved it. It just wasn’t right.

Belle glared straight ahead at Alistair’s locks of golden brown hair in front of her. Not a word or look had been exchanged between them since they left Grayson’s. The tension between them ate away at Belle. She couldn’t stand to stare silently out the window anymore.

“Pull over,” she whispered. She’d pressed her body against the seat in front of her. A wisp of his hair tickled her lip, and the smell of him was intoxicating, but not enough to calm the storm brewing inside her.

The car veered off onto the shoulder of the road.  

“If you weren’t going to get out, why did I bother pulling over?” he quipped, as Belle navigated her tiny frame between the seats and over the center console.

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, and Alistair threw his hands up in surrender, “I’m only joking.”

Belle’s heel clicked against the floor board, as Alistair sighed and pulled the car back onto the road. The wheels grated against the light layer of snow already collecting on the road, sending the car a little sideways for a moment.  

Once they were back up to speed, Belle spun towards him. “ What was that?” she leaned toward him and kept her voice quiet.

Alistair cocked an eyebrow, “It’s just a little snow, dear,” he replied in the same hushed tone.

Belle rolled her eyes. _Why are men always so dense?_ ”Not that,” she hissed. “The thing back at Grayson’s”

“I’m sorry, Belle…”

The gentleman she’d met earlier was back. His eyes were kind and soft, and his voice wobbled with nerves. But the image of his cane meeting Grayson’s leg wouldn’t leave her eyes.

“You should be! You had no right to interfere. And in front of Quinn!”

“I couldn’t let him talk to you that way,” he gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice calm and quiet. “It isn’t right, Belle. You deserve to be protected.”

Belle threw her hands in the air, “I do not need protecting!”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I know you don’t…I just…”

A slight movement in the rear view mirror caught Belle’s eye. Quinn had started to wake, her fists were knotted over her eyes.  

“Hey, sweetheart. Do you want me in the back with you again?”

Quinn looked between Alistair and her mother. She must have suspected the conversation that had woke her was more pleasant than reality. She giggled, “No, mom. You can stay up front.”

After giving Alistair the fiercest ‘not another word’ look she could muster, Belle bumped the radio volume up a few notches, and pretended to know lyrics to song she’d never heard before.

“It’s okay, mommy. Don’t be embarrassed. You can keep talking.”

Belle blushed, “It wasn’t anything important, sweetie.”

“Alistair? Are you mommy’s new boyfriend?” 

Belle cringed in her seat. Oh, the joy of raising a child who always spoke her mind. Belle never knew what would come out of her mouth next. 

Alistair’s eyes rounded, Belle swore she could see beads of sweat instantly form at his hairline. If she hadn’t been so angry, it might have been charming. “Uhm, well…..”

“He’s just a friend, Quinn.”

Quinn shrugged and laid back down in the seat. Within twenty minutes she was back out. The car stayed silent for the remainder of the trip.

 

 

* * *

 

By the time Alistair pulled Belle’s car into the spot just in front of her apartment stairs, a solid six inches of snow covered the ground. Exhausted, he sat silently, rubbing his red eyes and fighting off a yawn.

Soft snores came from Belle’s curled up body next to him. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, and her mouth was parted slightly, reminding him how much he wanted to kiss her.

For a moment, he just watched her. Taking in every bit of her beauty. _If only time would stop._ Behind them, Quinn slept soundly as well. Both of them were perfect, too perfect for him. He’d been silly to think he would ever fit into their little family.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and whispered her name. Belle jumped so high she almost hit her head against the ceiling of the car.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly, “but we’re home.”

Belle stretched her arms across the car, her left arm brushed against his chest. She looked outside and promptly scrunched her face up at the snow waiting her.

He motioned to the backseat, “Let me help you get Quinn upstairs. No need to wake her.”  

To his surprised Belle didn’t protest.  

It ended up being a much more difficult task than expected, given that he hadn’t carried a child since his accident.  He sat down next to the sleeping girl and pulled her into his lap, _easy enough._ But now to get out. As he awkwardly pulled himself  out of the seat, Quinn’s head flopped against his chin, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip.

Belle winced, arms outstretched ready to take her from him, but Alistair just shook his head, “I’m fine.”

The stairs made the car look like a cakewalk. Quinn’s extra weight caused his limp to worsen, he needed to rebalance himself every other step. From behind him, he could hear Belle giggling. At least she wasn’t yelling at him. Finally, they made it to the top and inside the small apartment.

“Take her down the hall and to the left, her room is open,” Belle said.

Just as he laid her head against the soft pink pillows, her eyes popped open. “Shhhh, it’s okay you’re home now,” he hummed. Quinn sat up and threw her arms around his neck, her hair stuck to the prickly hairs on his cheek.

“I want you to be mommy’s boyfriend, Mr. Gold,” she whispered.

“I want that, too,” he said as he pulled her blanket up over her shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steadied before he could even turn around.

Belle stood leaned against the door frame, her eyes dropped from him to her daughter. Tears glistened on her cheeks. He wished he could say something to make the situation easier, but he knew nothing he could say would take away what Grayson had done.

He felt a pang of regret. Though he still felt Grayson deserved what he got, he never meant to make this night harder on Belle.

He watched Belle kiss Quinn’s forehead before excusing himself back to the front room. A moment later Belle joined him.

“She really  likes you,”

“I like her, too,” he smiled, “and I also really like her mother, but I’m not sure if she’s too fond of me.”

Belle frowned, “I don’t need another bully in my life, Mr. Gold. As you saw tonight, I’ve already had quite enough of that.”

Alistair bit his tongue. It’d do no good to argue with her. “Will you give me another chance over dinner?”

“I don’t know,”

Knowing all too well that he’d lost his chance with her, Alistair backed toward the door. He needed to get out before he did something stupid, like crying, in front of her.

“I’ll be going then.”

The door was half closed when Belle called after him, “Wait…”

Hope blossomed in his heart, “Yes?”

“Thank you, for bringing her up. And for everything. I would have been a mess alone tonight.

Alistair nodded, a lump caught in his throat. “You’re welcome, Belle.”

The door closed behind him. Winter air sliced through him, sending chills over his body. The blood drained from his face. _What now?_ Sure, he’d screwed up, but couldn’t she see that he was falling madly in love with her?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair wants to win back Belle, but he hasn't tried to woo a lady in many many years. Will he succeeded or not?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has a late night conversation that puts the last 24 hours in perspective, giving her a new outlook on the way Alistair acted. While she's busy figuring out her true feelings, Alistair is busy making plans on how to win over the bookish beauty he's fallen for.

The clock on the microwave read 12:30. In just over 5 hours she would need to be up and ready to go to work. But she couldn’t force herself to go to bed, instead she flopped down on the big gray couch taking up half her living room.

As soon as her body sank perfectly into the cushion, there was a  soft knock at the door.  Belle grunted as she pulled herself off the couch and drug her feet to the door.  Surly, it was Alistair. Who else would come around this late?

“Did you forget something…?” she asked as she pulled open her front door.

“So he was here!” Anna cried.  She pushed her way past Belle, she was already wearing pajamas and her hair was plaited in pig tails.

“Anna?! What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”

“Of course I do,” she rolled her eyes, “but did you forget I can see your place out my bedroom window?”

Belle’s head fell to her chest, of course she saw, and Belle was in no mood to talk about what had happened now. But she might as well get over that, Anna was not going to let her  go easy.

“Was that Mr. Gold? What in the world was he doing here? Did he drive you?”

After pulling pops out of the fridge for the both of them, Anna lead the way to the couch. She patted the cushion next to her. “Come on, spill all.”

Tears poured out of the corner of Belle’s eyes. The whole evening had been so stressful. All she wanted to do was gush about the great evening she’d had, but then Grayson had went and managed to ruin everything.

“Oh, love,” Anna pulled Belle into a hug. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There is something much more important to talk about, here. It didn’t go well with Grayson did it?”

Belle shook her head, “She’s not going back, Anna.”

Anna’s shoulders fell.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Later then. Do you want to talk about Gold?”

Belle sucked on her bottom lip.  Maybe it would be good to get all her feelings off her chest. “Yes.”

By the time she finished going over every single detail of the night, including describing each of his looks and responses multiple times, it was far past one in the morning.

“So what do you think?” Belle asked.

“I think you’re being too hard on him for one. He was only trying to help.  From everything else you told me, he’s totally crushing hard on you Belle, and I really don’t think that one mistake should ruin that. He’s not a bully, just a man with different ideas of justice than you.”

Belle sat silent, her eyes thoughtful.  Since the day Anna moved to Storybrooke  they’d been best friends, connected at the hip.  And Anna had always been able to bring sense to whatever drama Belle had going on in her life.  

“Besides, wouldn’t you like to take one shot at Grayson? Just once?”  Anna giggled, “I know I would.”

Belle batted at her best friend, “You’re insane.” But what if she wasn’t? Of course she’d thought of how nice it’d be to see Grayson get a little karma. She’d even wished for it upon a shooting star once or twice. Maybe Alistair had been just that.

“You mean I’m correct?”

A smile crossed Belle’s face, “Maybe…”

Anna jumped up off the couch, “Does this mean? Say it isn’t so! Belle French has a boyfriend!”  She danced around the room, flinging her braids back and forth.

Belle pulled a finger over her lips, “Shhh! Quinn is sleeping!”  She pulled Anna back down on the couch beside her, “So what do I do? I shut him down, he’s never going to want me now.”

“Just give it time, Belle. Love always finds a way…”

 

 

 

The sun slipped through the cracks of the blinds, washing the best friends in golden light. It had been so late when they stopped talking that they had fallen asleep, curled up together on the couch.  

Anna groaned and pulled a throw blanket over her eyes, “No, go away sunshine!”

Belle jumped up, “It’s morning?”

Collecting her thoughts, Belle sat up and glanced at the clock. “Oh no….no, no, no!”

Belle rolled off the couch and ran straight into her room, “Ugh,  it’s past seven. Dad is going to kill me for not having the shop open!” She yelled to Anna as she slipped on the first clean pair of jeans she could find, “Can you watch Quinn today?”

“Of course, darling. The shop is always slow on Sunday’s.  Kris can manage on his own.”

Belle flew out of her room and straight out of the door, “Thank you!”

Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran down to the shop and straight to the front door. There stuck in the edge of the door was a bright red envelope. Her name was scribbled across the front in beautiful golden letters.  

As she pulled it from the crack in the door, the scent of sandalwood and whisky floated through the air. Instantly, she was pulled back to Alistair’s house. A thousand questions filled her mind. Was it from him? She was dying to know, but for now, whatever it was, would have to wait. She stuck the letter under her arm, and flung open the flower shop door.

* * *

 

 

Alistair stood outside the front of the chocolate shop. Through the window he saw who he thought to be Anna’s husband working the front counter. _Damn, she was supposed to be here._

He hopped back into his car and drove away, searching for the car he was looking for. As he continued down Main Street he found it, the red mustang with a plethora of bumper stickers, ranging from political to 'honk if you love chocolate', covering the back.

The only problem was it was in the very same spot he’d parked in the night before. Right outside of the flower shop.  He drove around the block, working out a new plan. Anna being at Belle’s was a problem, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from his plans.

He pulled out his phone, and searched for the Chocolate shop’s number. Maybe her husband would give him some idea of when she’d be back.

“Hello, this is Kris  from ‘Would you like to build a truffle’, what can I do you for?”

Alistair froze, _am I really this desperate?_ The answer, of course, was yes.

“Hi, uh Kris is it?” he started, trying his best to disguise his accent, “Is Anna around?”

“No, sir she isn’t. I’m afraid she’s on babysitting duty today. But I assure you I can be of any assistance you need.”

Alistair hung up and dropped his phone into the passenger seat. _Of course. Quinn. She’s babysitting Quinn._

The black Cadillac swung into a tight driveway and turned back toward town. Okay, we’ll do it the hard way, then.  He parked behind the flower shop and inched his way around the building. From the side window he could see Belle perfecting a bouquet for Emma Swan. _Perfect._

The red invitation he’d left in the door before sunrise laid on the counter. She hadn’t opened it yet. His heart sank to his chest, remembering that all of this could go to waste. She could say no.

 But he couldn’t think that way, he had to believe she’d at least give him a chance to make things right.  After a last glance at Belle, he hurried up the stairs and knocked at the door, hoping Anna would answer.

“Ali….Mr. Gold, hello!” Anna called as she pulled open the door.

“Yes, hello. I was wondering if I could come in and chat a moment,” he said as he glanced around, praying Belle wouldn’t catch him up here.

Anna raised an eyebrow, “You know Belle is downstairs, right?”

“I’m here to talk to you actually, about a deal.”

Anna pulled the door open the rest of the way and let him walk in, “Well okay then, come right on in.”

Alistair, Anna, and Quinn took a seat around the kitchen table. He felt quite awkward, sitting at Belle’s table when she wasn’t at home. But he’d do anything to make his plan work.

“By the sounds of it, I don’t need to fill you in on much,” Alistair said. He drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“You mean how you’re going to be mommy’s boyfriend, Mr. Gold?” Quinn said.

“Quinn, maybe you should go to your room and play for a moment,” Anna suggested.

“No, stay Quinn,” Alistair smiled down at the bubbly six year old.  “You’re just as much a part of this as Anna.”

 Alistair began his speech. He’d rehearsed it a hundred times the night before. After he got home and saw the bouquet that had started the whole evening. It was obvious. He’d redo Valentine’s Day. He had one week to plan the most perfect date Belle could ever imagine. All she had to do was show up.

An hour later, he shook hands with the girls and headed back out the door. They’d agreed to help him in his plan, and gave him plenty of ideas as to what Belle would love. The meeting had left him with a little pep in his step and his heart felt like it was tied to a balloon.  It had been ages since he’d felt that way.

He checked his reflection in the rear view mirror as he took his place behind the steering wheel. It almost seemed like he’d aged down. The dark circles under his eyes were lighter, even though he’d only slept a couple of hours the night before. The lines around his mouth had filled out. Maybe Belle had some magic to her after all.

As he made his way to his next stop, he thought about how much he’d changed in the short span he’d known her. He had started Valentine’s Day off as a grumpy old man, with nothing but money and pride to live for. Now, he felt alive and ready to take on the world. Belle had definitely had an effect on him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How will Belle respond to what's inside the envelope? And what in the world has Alistair planned? Find out soon!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's and Belle's first date, a do-over of Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike previous chapters, this one is completely in Belle's POV.

It was an odd winter day in Storybrooke. Old man winter had taken a vacation, giving the residents an odd but well enjoyed warm day.

Belle perched atop a barstool in front of her balcony window, Anna stood in front of her layering powder over her face.

A week had passed, since the day she found the red envelope tucked into the flower shop door. It hadn’t been a surprise to find that it was from Alistair.

She had found simple and beautifully written instructions inside. Time, place and date were all there, along with one simple request, " _Give me a chance to show you who I can be."_

Her heart hand sank a little when she saw the address. He wanted to meet at the library, her once favorite place.  It had been so many months since she’d stepped foot into the place that had once been her home, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her a little emotional.

She’d kept the letter tucked inside her purse all week long, revisiting it whenever she had a spare moment. Each time she ran her fingers over the writing, and wondered what would be in store for her once the time came.

Now she was only an hour away from leaving her place and heading toward the library. Her knee bounced up and down, her hands tapping against her thigh.

"Belle! You've got to be still or I'm going to have lipstick all over your face," Anna complained.

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous."

"No need to be nervous, you'll have the time of your life. I'm sure of it."

The lines around Belles mouth deepened, "Oh how would you know? This could be some kind of elaborate prank."

"Belle, sweetheart. I love you, but don't you think you're being a bit ridiculous? From what I've heard Alistair seems to be head over heels for you. He's going to make tonight great."

"Fine," Belle muttered. She took in a deep breath, "So tell me about yesterday! How did the wedding go? I still cannot believe you know someone who needed a thousand red roses."

When Anna told her about the last minute wedding, Belle worried it was a trick. Who would want a small town flower shop to hand arrange a thousand roses in one week? But Belle couldn’t deny the amazing feeling of weight being lifted from her shoulders when Anna had hand delivered the check.

"Oh it was fine," Anna said, chewing on her bottom lip. "And what can I say. Cara likes her roses."

"Cara?" Bell asked, one brow raised. "I thought her name was Christa?"

Anna laughed nervously, "Did I say Cara?! Silly me! Anyways it was great.

"Well, thank you. You have no idea how good this is for the shop," Belle said.

Anna winked, "I've got your back. Now, come on! It’s dress time!"

A half hour later Belle walked  down her apartment steps with Anna at her back. She looked marvelous. Like the midnight sky and dropped and fell onto her, forming the perfect little black dress, and the diamond necklace she borrowed from Anna looked just like a hundred little stars.

“Thank you, Anna. You’re always much better at these girly things than I am,” Belle said, she held her hands at her stomach, trying to keep the butterflies from bursting through her.

“You’re welcome.  Now, go on! You’re going to be late!” Anna said.

The walk to the library was familiar, so familiar that she was certain she could do it with her eyes closed.  Good thing, too. She couldn’t shake Alistair, the way he’d kissed her hand, or the way he looked in a suit and tie from her mind. She wondered what he’d be wearing and what they’d do. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she almost walked out in front of Leroy’s patrol car.

As she approached the library, she slowed her pace, using every moment to prepare herself. Both for seeing Alistair for the first time in a week, and for being in the library for the first time in forever.

The doors looked as they always had, same peeling paint, the same flyers  that had been up for years. It even smelled the same, the perfect spot in town to smell the perfect mixture of Granny’s cheeseburgers, a little saw dust from Gepetto’s, and just a hint of salt from the docks.

The door knob gave in her hand, revealing the front entrance. She took a deep breath, expecting the dusty scent of a thousand old books, but she froze when another smell hit her instead. Sweet and maybe even more familiar than the one of books.

Curiously, she stepped farther in and around the corner, out into the open library.

“Holy…” Belle’s chin dropped to her chest.

Red roses, _Anna’s roses,_ surrounded her on every side, draped from the ceiling, lining the shelves, atop the desk, her desk…another red envelope laid on top of a pile of papers she’d left the day they closed.

She pulled out the little white card inside. There were only three words,

“Come find me”

Glancing around the room, Belle tried to work out where Alistair might be hiding. The flowers were more than a little distracting, and then there were the decorations she hadn’t noticed at first. Paper hearts fluttered above her, dancing in the breeze of the heat coming from the vents. 

Then she found what she was looking for. Towards the back of the room she spotted a line of golden candles, flickering among the flowers. There were at least a couple dozen little flames. If Alistair wasn’t the most powerful man in all of Storybrooke, she would have been concerned they’d be arrested for breaking some kind of fire code.   


She made her way toward the flames, realizing exactly where the candles were leading her. The romance section, of course, and there he was at the end of the trail.  His usual black attire was gone, in place of it was a navy  suit, and a golden tie. The little lights casted shadows over his face. It was astonishing how hauntingly beautiful he was in that moment.

“You came,” he whispered, he took a few steps forward meeting her in the middle. He took her hand in his, placing a kiss on the tip of her fingers, “You look so beautiful, Belle.”

“And you look as handsome as ever,” Belle replied, her cheeks a little blushed.  

“What is all of this?” she asked, her voice full of awe.  

“You didn’t get a proper Valentine’s Week. I intend on correcting that.”

Belle’s  opened her lips and looked around, “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

He nodded, a small smile surfacing, “Of course I did. You deserve every moment of it.” He gestured to a table  overlooking Maine Street,  “Do you care for dinner?”  

Gracefully, he wrapped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and lead her to the small table overlooking Maine Street, “Do you care for dinner?”

“I’d love that,” Belle said, bubbling with emotions.

Alistair pulled out her chair, and helped her down into the seat before taking his own. In his rush to join her, he stepped on her foot underneath the small table. Belle bit back a gasp as the pain soared through her already pinched toes.

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” he cried, his face struck with worry.

“No, don’t be. I barely felt it.” She noted the empty plates in front of them, “So, what are we having?”

Alistair produced a small sliver bell from his front pocket, ringing it softly.  

Belle’s brows furrowed. Whatever was he doing? Then, she saw the small figure dressed in all black appearing around a shelf of books.

“Quinn!” Belle gasped, as her daughter came into the light. “What are you doing here?”

Quinn beamed, her mother’s smile. “Hi mom!”

Something like a giggle came from Alistair.

Quinn sat down a serving platter between them, it was covered with a dome shaped lid. “Dinner is served,” she said before darting toward the exit, giving Belle no time to question why her daughter was on her date instead of with a friend like they’d planned.  

“Go ahead.” Alistair motioned to the platter, “Ladies first.”

Belle lifted the lid, and laughed out loud. Two burgers and two fries, both baring the signature yellow _M._

Belle threw her head back in laughter, “You’re kidding!”

“Can I offer you a drink?” Alistair asked, smirking.

Belle’s eyes pulled up from the food to find Alistair holding a bottle of Dr. Pepper over her wine glass.  Under the table she pinched the skin on the back of her hand,   _this cannot be real._

“Yes, please,” she said, not able to hold back her giggles.

Everything about the night was so strange. From the thousand roses she’d packed herself, to the heart cutouts she was now sure Quinn had some part of, to the fizzy drink in her expensive glass.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this,” Belle mumbled before sticking a fry into her mouth.

“Sure I did,” Alistair said. He reached for her hand, his fingers landing over the same spot he’d kissed before, “I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“To be fair, I was  being a little sensitive. Grayson has this way of getting to me, even now.”

“No,” Alistair shook his head, “You had every right to be upset. You were going through so much. I just…I wanted to protect you, but you have that covered. I know that now. I only hope you’ll forgive me for acting like a beast. Please, if you will, I’d love a second chance at being your Valentine. And if you say yes, I promise to try and let you handle Grayson.”

A pink blush rose to Belle’s cheeks. No one had ever been so kind, and aware of her feelings. To be honest it was a bit terrifying.

She nodded, “Of course, and from now on I won’t jump to conclusions without hearing you out first.”

“Deal,” Alistair said.

Time slipped away from them as they devoured their fast food and chatted away. Belle had to look away from him more than once, afraid she’d laugh at the way he scrunched his nose with every bite of burger.

When the plates were clear, and the sky turned dark Alistair pulled her out of her chair. “Come with me.”

The night air was cold against her bare skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle, preserving every last bit of heat from the library.

Alistair slipped off his coat and wrapped it over her shoulders, “I know it’s cold, but it’s worth it,” he said.

Belle slipped her hand into his, and pulled it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss onto his knuckles. “I’d follow you almost anywhere.”

Anywhere turned out to be just down the road, in the back yard of Alistair’s home. But If she hadn’t seen the house for herself as they walked by, she wouldn’t believe she was even in Storybrooke anymore. The trees were strung with Christmas lights, every branch glowing like a thousand little fireflies. A white gazebo, draped in red fabric and even more roses, marked the middle of the large yard.

Alistair led her up the steps of the gazebo. He bowed before her, taking her hand into his, “Can I have this dance?”

Before Belle could even answer, a soft and sensual melody floated from some place she couldn’t find. Each note brushed against her heart, it was a song she knew well.  Her favorite instrumental piece.

“How…”

Alistair held up a finger to her lips, “What’s a man without his secrets?”

Belle laid her head against his chest, resting her cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. Somehow he looked even more handsome than before, she could hardly stop herself from jumping him right then and there. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Quinn was hiding in the bushes, or Anna, or both.

The moment when she could finally feel his lips against hers would come, she had no doubt. And she was sure it would be worth the wait, but for now she was happy with her head against his chest, and feeling the quick patter of his heart underneath her cheek.

As the song ended, Alistair pulled apart from her, making her uneasy. For a moment she wondered if she’d stepped on his toes, he seemed a little too eager to back away.

“Is everything okay, Alistair?” she asked.

Alistair fished a small box out of his pocket.

Without realizing it her hand had fluttered to her lips, she chewed on her nails, unsure of what he was doing. They’d had a great night, but jewelry seemed a little fast.

“Belle, you’re such a wonderful woman. I find myself entranced by everything you do. From the way your eyes glow brighter than the stars, to the way you bite your nails when you’re nervous.” Belle ripped her hand away from her mouth, locking it in place at her side. Alistair laughed, “And even more so, I admire how strong you are. You single handedly raised Quinn into the smartest, most lovely, little woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of being around. You stay here and take care of your father and his shop, even after you lost your dream. You’re smart, you’re caring, and you’re accepting…”

Belle faced the ground. _Of course, he’s crazy._ All the roses, the dance, the box, and now a speech. They had only spent two days together, definitely not long enough for a proposal.

“Alistair, I don’t think I’m ready…”

“Belle, just listen,” he said, interrupting her. “You’re a light in a world that’s often filled with insurmountable darkness. And I want you to be part of my life, but I’m not asking for your hand.” He lifted the lid off the little black box, revealing a golden key, “I’m asking you to take your place as the owner and head librarian of Storybrooke’s library.”

The ground underneath her disappeared, the lights started to dance, and she was sure her heart had exploded. “Are you…are you sure? But the library is closed, I don’t understand.”

“I’m hoping you’ll let me help with the grand reopening.”

With shaking hands she took the key from the box, admiring it. He’d even had her name engraved across the top.  Tears bubbled from her eyes, blurring her vision. “Yes. A thousand million times yes!”  She ran towards him, his jacket slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. 

In the back of her mind, she vaguely remembered they probably weren’t alone, but she didn’t even care anymore.  She jumped into his arms, letting him swing her around in his arms. As he sat her down, he put a single long finger underneath her chin, tilting it upwards.

It wasn’t how she imagined,  her lips were dry, and their noses bumped together a little too hard. But that wasn’t what she would remember. She’d remember how he tasted of honey and smelled of forest, and the way his hands felt as he gently tugged her closer to him.  She’d remember the way it felt to have a hundred volts of electricity surge into her soul, and out again through her lips. 

She pulled away slightly, letting her lips linger against his, not willing to part completely. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips into hers again, harder this time, more confident. His hands snaked around her waist, and trailed down her back, leaving Belle breathless.  She tangled her hands in his hair, letting her body react to the way his tongue tickled her lip.

“We’re still out here,” Anna called. A rush of heat reddened Belle’s cheeks. She yanked away from Alistair and turned toward the voice of her best friend, whose hands were clasped over Quinn’s eyes.

Alistair laughed, “Forgive me, I’d forgotten.”

“Clearly,” Anna complained.

Quinn fought against Anna’s hand, and ran to her mother’s side. “Does this mean he’s your boyfriend now, mommy?”

Belle peeked at Alistair, he winked back at her and nodded his head. “I guess it does.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! I can't believe I successfully finished a multi-chapter fic! I will more than likely post a few one shots from this verse over time. Feel free to leave a prompt in the comments if there is something specific you'd like to read about this little family! 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for your support!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! I love and adore every comment you all leave.


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